Life Goes On
by Foreseer44
Summary: When the world is torn apart by a mysterious and deadly illness, Shawn and Jasmine must contend with murderous thieves, walking corpses, the harsh elements of the wilderness, and their own demons in order to survive. Warning: Blood, cursing, and drama ahead.
1. Chapter 1- Rememberance (Shawn)

**Disclaimer: All Total Drama characters belong to Fresh Tv. I'm only writing this for a project and no copyright violation is intended. Rated T for now, but might get gory and full of coarse language as it goes on.**

**~A/N~ After the small success of my first story: Total Drama: Return of the Underdogs, I decided to try out something new. This is a story of Shawn and Jasmine's struggle to survive in a world run by the living dead (totally original, I know.) But I like Shazmine, I like zombies, and I like writing, so why not? **

**The updates will be slower on this one than on my other story, but hopefully it's good enough to be memorable. Feel free to leave reviews, preferably of the constructive type, and follow.**

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_Life Goes On: Chapter 1- Rememberance_

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I'm running.

That's all I have to do. That's all I can do.

Jasmine is holding onto my outstretched arm as she pulls the both of us through the brush. I try not to trip, but my left thigh is slowly becoming drenched in a fiery pain that threatens to drag me down with each step.

"Just keep going," she says to me. I barely hear her over the crashing of brush.

I look back to see a set of five lights in the distance, each with a relentless owner that will never stop until I finally fall.

"Don't you dare look back!" my girlfriend scolds me. "Just keep running!"

My forehead is seeping with sweat and I involuntarily stumble on my own feet. When I hit the ground, Jasmine forcefully grabs my orange vest and lifts me to my feet. It's not long before my injured leg gives out and my body collapses to the forest floor.

"Shawn?!" she says in a panic, unsure of my ability to continue. "Shawn?!"

I feel her long arms scoop me up. My vision is fading and I know I'm going to black out from the pain. I grip her rough leather jacket and hold on for my life.

"Hold in there. It's just a bit longer."

I can hear the despair in her voice, but I can't comfort her like I've always done and its killing me more than my wound is. For over a year, we've had each other's backs every step of the way. From that wretched reality show to the deserted deserts of the out back, we've always been able to take care of each other. But now is different. I'm helpless. I'm hurt. My life and hers rests on her shoulders, and I can't do anything about it. For the first time in my career as a survivalist, I'm the one who needs help. I'm the one who won't survive. I'm the one with the problem.

Jasmine stumbles a bit and I feel my injured limb rub against the ground. A sharp pain jets through my leg and I let out a yelp.

"Keep it down," she whispers. "Were almost there."

I try to say something to her, but all I can muster is a dry croak. I look behind her arm and notice that the lights are still following us, albeit a bit farther away than before. It's not good news, but it gives me a sense of hope that allows me to stay conscious.

Before I know it, my body is gently set down on the ground . When my leg touches the soil, it burns like the devil.

Jasmine grabs me by the shoulders and looks my in the eyes. I can see the fear peaking through her stern face.

"Don't make another sound, you hear me. Just stay down and keep quiet. This might hurt."

Before I can attempt to speak, she tears off a piece of her undershirt and looks down at my leg. Her face is a composition of fear, sorrow, anger, and every other emotion possible.

She reaches down to my wounded leg and pulls my blood-soaked pant leg up to my knee. I see her look up and she kisses my lips before I feel the pain spike. It's unlike anything I've ever felt before.

As I grind my teeth, I feel a tightening sensation a couple of inches below my kneecap.

"That should stop the bleeding," she says under her breath. "Hopefully."

She opens her mouth to speak again and is cut off by a much deeper and more masculine voice. "Are you sure they went this way? You better not be screwin' with me!"

A faint and mellow voice responds. "Y-yes sir! I know they went this way. I'm sure of it!"

"Well, then where are the assholes!?" the owner of the deep voice asks with rage.

"They have to be close, I saw blood, and footprints, and-"

"I don't give two shits about blood and prints! I want their heads on stakes in front of camp!"

Jasmine puts a finger over her mouth and looks at me with desperation. I nod as best as I can. I can see the lights of our pursuers shining onto to slope below me and I examine my surroundings. We're behind what appears to be a tree. I'm facing a steep hill that fades into the black.

"Look dude," comes another voice. "It's late, and you know what happens after dark. Let's just get back to camp and we can look tomorrow. They're probably dead by now and you're putting us all in danger."

The angry man calms down. "All right. We can do that," he says enthusiastically.

I hear a gunshot followed by screams. I jump a bit and my eyes slam shut.

"Anyone else want to challenge my authority? Huh, anyone?" the man asks. Silence follows. "Just what I thought. Now get your lazy asses up and runnin' cause we're looking until I say we can stop! Got it?!" More silence. "Good," the murderer says maliciously. He sounds amused. He's obviously done this before, and not just to lurkers.

I hear footsteps passing by and the lights disappear into the thicket. My leg is still on fire, but I'm slowly coming back to full consciousness.

Jasmine grabs my trembling hand. She's shaking too. I feel her majestic arms wrap around my shoulders and I'm brought a small bit of comfort.

She kisses me again and sighs. "It's gonna be a long night."

I reach over and touch her arm, but she backs off to my dismay.

"I'll keep up guard. You need your rest," she says.

I smile and open my mouth. "Thanks," I say quietly.

Jasmine walks a few feet down the hill and takes a seat. She looks back at me and the moonlight allows me to see a tear rolling down her cheek as she smiles.

I smile back and close my eyes, ignoring the pain. "We have to make it," I think to himself. "You've been training your entire life, Shawn. It's up to you to save her. You have to."

I lean my head back onto the tree behind me and take a deep breath. This is it. This is what I've prepared for. It's hell on Earth.

* * *

**Two Weeks Earlier...**

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**(Day 4)**

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I open my eyes to see a drab ceiling of grey. It's only a reminder of what's happened so far. Life has gone to hell, and we're at the center of it.

The snore of my partner in the cot next to mine is music to my ears. I adore her with all my heart. She's my drive. I turn my body to look at her. My cot squeaks when I move, but it doesn't wake her.

"Poor Jasmine," I say to myself. Memories of the past come flowing back, but I decide to block them. They're no use to me now. No use to us, that is. The days of Total Drama, loads of money, and cage fighting and flower shops are dead. And so are the people. So many people.

I close my eyes as I yawn and dangle my legs over the edge of the bed.

My bare feet touch the cold tiles and I shiver. It's been a handful of days, but my life is still out of order. I thought I had prepared for the dead to rise, but I was wrong. I had only lived out a fantasy. This was no fantasy. It was life and death. Still, I remain strong-willed and focused.

I tiptoe across the room, making sure not to wake Jasmine, and leave through the doorway and into a long hallway.

After I take a deep breath, I stroll down the bright corridor and open the bathroom door. Inside is the standard set-up. A toilet, a sink, a mirror. It's just like the old times.

"No," I think. "Don't remember the old ways. Survival is key. It's all that matters."

I turn on the faucet and dip my hands into the stream of cold water. With my hands, I raise the water to my face and clean myself off. Three days underground isn't the cleanest experience after all.

More memories come back. My fear still controls me, but not as severely as it once did. Jasmine on the other hand is plagued by her claustrophobia. Every time she stands up, she's forced to duck below the doorways and kneel in order to get around. It's actually somewhat of a hindrance. What if she holds me back? No, I can't think that way. I promised myself I'd keep her safe. But what's more important, my life or her life?

I shake off my cluelessness and begin to clean my teeth. It's sad that life has grown so boring in three days that merely flossing of all things is becoming my new hobby. Flossing!

When I finish cleaning my teeth, I hear a loud thump from the bedroom. I think about calling out to Jasmine, but my fear sets in. I can't move and ask myself if she's possibly turned in her sleep. What if she died? What if she's coming to eat my brains?!

Then I hear her voice rattling through the hall. "Shawn? Was that you?"

"I'm just cleaning up," I say as I wipe my face with a towel. Her Australian accent fills me with hope and relief. "I'll be out in a sec."

After spending over ten minutes in the bathroom cleaning up, a new record, I look into the bedroom to see Jasmine trying to stand up. She's nervous.

"It's okay," I say. "It's not too cramped, right?"

She sighs and nods. "Can you help me out of the room?"

"Sure," I tell her. Sadly, I have second thoughts. If we're gonna be living underground for the rest of eternity, she has to get over her fear of tight spaces. It just won't work out, and both of us know it. When she and I have to fight zombies, I can't help her all the time. It just won't happen. So, I change my mind.

"Well, uh, how about you try it yourself," I say in the nicest way possible. "You need to get over your fear if you're gonna live here forever."

She looks at me with a hint of disdain. "Really?" she says. "You know I can't just get over it. You've known for a full year!"

"Sorry," I wince. "I just don't want you getting hurt if we have to fight anyone."

Her frown fades to a smile. "Alrighty then. I'll try on my own." She stands up and her head is only a foot or so from the ceiling. I notice her arms shaking and decide to help her anyways.

"Here," I say as I take her hand. As we exit the room and Jasmine ducks under the doorway, I can only think about how easier it would be if I had kept the full prize. Larger rooms? Weaponized pillows? A panic room inside the panic room? Taller doors? An eye scan security system? A snack machine? Nope. Nothing but a five room bunker with a bathroom, a bedroom, a supply room, a panic room, and two above ground exits, the worst kind of exit imaginable. What if someone busted in? We'd be zombie snacks for sure!

But what happened to Jasmine's half of the money? It went into a horrible idea that never got off the ground. I want to call her out for wasting it on such a pathetic idea when the money could have been used to perfect my, er, our bunker, but of course, she never believed in zombies. She thought I was loony, a joke, and wasting my time. But look at us now. The dead have risen and I was right all along. We're stuck underground, and I'm glad I trained for it. Jasmine on the other hand, never bothered to train or prep or whatever she calls it. One minute she's in my living room and the next she's crawling down a ladder and into the darkness of the bunker.

I slowly help Jasmine along until she and I reach the kitchen. It's the largest room in the bunker, if only to provide extra storage space, so Jasmine can find a bit of comfort here.

She's sits down at the table and looks at me. "What's for breakfast? Canned beans again?"

She knows me too well. "Yeah, it's uh, fine with you, right?"

She sighs and rests her elbows on the table. "Sure, but I just wish you packed a little more variety. Got any eggs, or pancakes, or bacon?"

"I'll check," I say. I walk over to the storage pantry marked 'Breakfast/Medicine' and hold the combination lock in my hands. I turn to Jasmine and test her. "You know the combo, right?"

She taps her chin in deep thought. "Uh, three, nine, two?"

I shake my head. "Nope. It's three, nine, _eight_."

She suddenly snaps. "Well, how can you expect me to know every damn code in the place in just three days! Give me some time!"

"Sorry," I sigh. After I open the doors, I fiddle through the canned goods. Beans. Beans. Beans. Green Beans. Beans. Bean. Cream of broccoli soup. Beans. Beans. Peas. Beans. Oh, spam!

I turn back to her and ask her, "How about some spam, huh?"

She looks at me in disapproval, but doesn't answer.

"Or maybe not," I say before putting the canned meat back on the shelf. She's too picky. When you're on the run from walkers, you don't have time to look through food pantries for bacon and eggs. And even though we're locked underground, it could happen. I never got the good security system I wanted, so a zombie horde could bust in with enough luck.

"Oh, forget it, Shawn," she says. "Just make beans, already. That clattering and clanking is driving my sanity up a tree."

"You sure?"

"I just said I was fine with baked beans ! Did you not hear me?!"

I hate it when she gets angry, and being in my zombie shelter is only making it worse on her temper. "I heard ya."

I pull out one of the cans from the back of the shelf, as you should always eat the older food before it goes to waste. Jasmine grabs a small, stainless steel pot and sets it on the electric stove. With everything running on solar power, we have unlimited energy unless the sun goes down or we get a storm overhead. It hasn't been to bad so far. We lost power at night on the first day and Jasmine nearly wet herself over it.

A small can opener is all I need to open the can of beans and I pour the food into the pot. As I turn on the hot plate, I hear a rumble from the surface world. Thunder. Looks like I spoke too soon.

Jasmine and I stand in silence as the beans cook and the thunder rumbles. I want to have a nice discussion with her, but she's probably too peeved right now. Her life has pulled a 180 and might stay this way forever. If only she was as prepared as I was.

When the beans are done, I pull two bowls out of the dish rack and pour an equal amount into each. I set them down on the table and dig in with my spoon. Jasmine is just playing with them. Once again, I fail to say anything. I don't know what to say her. Jasmine's stuck here with me, might have lost her family, and has to live here forever. I guess it must be harder on her than it is for me. I'm not worried about my parents. They were away when the outbreak started and were trained by me for years, not that they listened though. They took my wisdom as a joke, just like Jasmine.

"Zombies?" they would say. "You need to stop playing those horror games on your computer. They're filling your rotting mind with all sorts of crazy ideas."

As much as I loved them, I knew my parents wouldn't last in an apocalypse. They were too naive. I'm afraid that Jasmine is in the same boat. She might have survival skills, peak physical condition, and a great body, but unless she wises up about the realism of what's happening above ground, she's mincemeat.

I wish I could read her mind. She's holding back her feelings, and I know she could break down and cry at any given moment. The pressure is too much.

But even if she's not ready, I am. And I'm ready to take her to the end with me, no matter what the cost. I don't want to be alone in a world on fire or I'll get engulfed by the flames.

I look down to my beans to discover that I've eaten all of them and have been scooping up air instead. Jasmine hasn't even touched them yet, or so I think.

It's going to be a long time before things go back to normal, if they do at all. I know it won't end, and I've been ready since I was ten years old. But until that day might come, life will go on. We will survive. Life goes on.

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**~A/N~ I've never written Shazmine before, so I just pray that they're not OOC. This was a different experience for me, as I rarely write in a first person point of view, so I hope it went well. Feel free to leave a review or PM me if you have any suggestions**


	2. Chapter 2- Dreams (Jasmine)

**Disclaimer: All Total Drama characters belong to Fresh Tv. I'm only writing this for a project and no copyright violation is intended. Rated T for now, but might get gory and full of coarse language as it goes on.**

**~A/N~ Two chapters in one day is a new record. Sadly, this is really short, but oh well. ****Thanks to those who fav'd and reviewed. I promise we'll get to some action and suspense, but for now, enjoy the Shazmine. And just a reminder, the story will switch from two points of view from chapter to chapter. Just letting you know ahead of time. And don't forget to review!**

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_Life Goes On: Chapter 2- Dreams_

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**(Day 4)**

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Shawn remains silent as he heats up the beans. He wants to say something and I can see it in his eyes. I want to say something too, but it wouldn't go over well with my boyfriend.

For three days, I've been locked away by Shawn and his fear of zombies. I scoff to myself. The funniest thing is that Shawn never actually saw the 'zombies' in person. We were just sitting in bed and watching the news when an alert flashed up on the screen. I've forgotten exactly what it had said, something about an outbreak of the flu? It doesn't matter to Shawn. As soon as he saw the alert, he dragged me out of the house, against my will I might add, and pushed me into his stupid bunker.

For over three hours, he locked us away inside the storage room and sat in the corner with a handgun at the ready. I thought he was actually going insane... oh wait. He _is_ insane! But I won't tell that to his face. I'd break his heart.

Shawn makes two bowls of food and sets one in front of me. I pick up my spoon and swirl it around the bowl. He looks at me in silence.

I almost start a conversation, but I back out. Nothing I say will get by his stubborn skull. But to be fair, none of my complaints can really make a difference anyway. Can he make the ceiling higher? No. Can he drop his irrational fear and open the hatch to get some fresh air? No. Can he get some food that isn't canned beans or spam? No.

I know I mean a lot to him, but I question whether or not he has his head on straight. When he led us down here, he made sure that I was comfortable, but he totally ignored my plan of actually checking outside. He said it was too dangerous. He doesn't know the first thing about danger. When he's bitten by a snake and rushed to the hospital in a chopper, he'll know what danger is. When he gets malaria and almost dies, he'll know what danger is.

When he finishes his beans, he begins staring into space and continues to scoop at his empty bowl. I should tell him to snap out of it, but it's actually entertaining. Instead, I watch him out of the corner of my eye.

Sometimes I feel as if I made a bad choice with my selection of guys. Shawn is smart, cute, and funny, but the guy is off the charts with his paranoia. I don't even think he's worried about his family. And even if he was, I doubt he'd actually care enough to go outside and find a phone to make sure that they're fine and dandy.

I've become flustered by his arrogance. At the first sight of trouble, he locks us underground. Then he wants me to change so it's easier to live with me.

The worst part is that there are no zombies. All he saw was that someone got really sick. That's it! One person is sick, and Shawn does what Shawn always does.

I love him, but it's only been three days and I've considered opening the bunker while he's sleeping, if only to check and prove that there's nothing outside. But he'd school me on safety if I did that, and I despise his infamous lectures on anti-zombie tactics. I'm fine with schoolwork, but when your boyfriend assigns you an essay on zombie weaknesses for homework, you know he has a problem.

He opens his mouth to say something. Please be something that makes sense.

"So uh, what time do ya' think it is?"

My heart drops a bit. "About 1100 hours," I say. I'm not sure at all. I lost track of time when I tried to sleep on the first day.

"Oh," he says to me. "That's about right, I think."

It's now or never. I must have a meaningful talk with the guy.

"So," I say. "When can we look outside? I haven't heard anything unnatural and the news never said-"

"Never. We never look outside."

I narrow my eyes and clench my fists. "Shawn, listen to me. The news alert said that there was some kind of new virus, not an apocalypse. You need to think rationally and stop trying to prepare for the worst." He actually listened.

"Jasmine, I would if I could, but this is a life and death situation. I know a zombie virus when I see one, and this was definitely a zombie virus. You can't expect me to lower my guard when my brains are in danger."

"So you'd rather be locked away for years than to know for sure?" I ask him. He puts his hands on the table and leans over.

"We. Have to. Survive. If you want to die then go ahead and open the door. Let us both be eaten, why don't ya."

There's got to be a way to get it into his thick skull that this is insane. I think, and think, and think, but nothing comes to mind.

"I gave you half of the money," he says. "I was fair and listened to you, so it's only fair if you listened to me. Is that okay with you?"

I look him in the eye and try to plead. "Shawn, I know you and I haven't seen eye to eye on this zombie ordeal, but it's been three whole days. It won't hurt to check just once. Please, listen to me."

He shakes his head in defiance. "I'm sorry, but I can't expose the bunker to anyone or anything that might eat me alive. I have to save both of us, and letting the horde in won't help."

Maybe_ I'm_ going insane. There's no use in trying to reason with him. Splitting the money was one thing, but when you mess with his beliefs, you better be prepared to argue. It's not worth it, even if I want out of the shelter for good. Shawn's a lost cause, and I've come to accept that.

Shawn sighs and grabs my hand. "I'd do a lot for you, Jasmine. I'd split a million bucks with you. I'd fight an army of robots for you. But this is about survival. I want to help, but some things aren't in my control. Like the state of the world, for instance. I'll do what I can, but I have a lot on my plate."

I feel somewhat remorseful for demanding something so outrageous from him, but I have to change his mind eventually, right? I tell him, "I know," and we kiss.

He opens his mouth again. "Plus, being down here means that we always get to be around each other. It's way easier than driving seven hours, right?"

I try to see the bright side. "Right. I guess that's one good thing that came outta' this, er, problem." I don't want to call it an apocalypse. That will only assure him that this is a serious matter, zombies or no zombies.

"So," he says to me. "I guess we should clean these bowls, huh."

"Sure," I say with false delight. "There's not much else to do around here besides cleanin' an' sleeping, is there?"

Shawn smiles. "Not unless we get overrun by biters. Wait, why am I smiling at that? That's a horrible thought!" He starts to panic.

Of course. Shawn will always be Shawn. There's no changing that.

As we clean the dishes together, I look at the potted plants that Shawn placed above the sink. He said that they'd give us an oxygen supply, but they symbolize more than just oxygen. They symbolize dreams. My dreams, as a matter of fact.

I scrub away at the pot in my hands and remember how stupid I was. After I left Total Drama, I immediately pushed my share of Shawn's cash into my flower shop and cage fighting school. I had no idea that it would fail so fast. No one showed up to buy anything on the first day except for one old woman who wanted a bouquet of roses for her husband, and one fat man who thought it was a steakhouse. We only made three-thousands dollars in sales by the end of the first month and my mom and I were forced to shut down. But what came after was worse. The building that we built and sold was turned into an adult video store. I still imagine that old woman walking into that shop looking for roses and having a heart attack. It's sad that the thought of a dying woman gives me a laugh, but it's true.

Shawn never cared about my shop. He was probably glad that it shut down so he could rub it in my face, something he never did. I feel horrible about throwing away half of Shawn's money like that, but I guess some dreams weren't meant to be fulfilled after all.

I put the cleaned pot on the drying rack and look down at my boyfriend. "Shawn?"

He looks up at me. "Yeah?"

I look him in the eye and exhale slowly. "Will we ever leave this bunker? I need an honest answer, because we can't stay here forever. You know that, right?"

He stays silent and looks at his potted plants for a moment. "When we have to."

There it is. My glimmer of hope. Shawn might finally understand. He might be coming to his senses.

"So?" I ask him. "When might that be?"

He sighs. "Whenever we have to. If we run out of food or water, then hypothetically, we'll have to open the hatch."

I finally have him where I need him. This is my chance to pop the big question.

"But if we do leave, if only for a minute," he says. I await his final words. "Then we might not like what we see."

"So, maybe we should look outside now," I say. "We need to know what we're dealing with, right?" I've decided to play along. It's the only way to get things into his head without him ignoring them.

"Since when are you a believer?" Shawn asks me suspiciously. "Yesterday, and even today, you said that there were no zombies. You said I was overreacting."

Crap. So much for that tactic. "Well, I might have jumped to conclusions."

"Really?" Shawn says in disbelief. "You said that_ I_ jumped to conclusions on day one. Look if you want to go outside, then you have to know that you might get your brains eaten in under a minute." He drops his gaze to the floor. "I just don't want you to get hurt. You're a huge part of my life, Jazz."

My heart warms at the mention of my nickname. I grab his hands and smile. "Look, I'll be fine. I might not have zombie training, but I have enough common sense to know what to do in a sticky situation."

Shawn smiles back at me. We lock eyes.

"Alright," he says to me. "I trust you. Just don't try anything stupid, and I'll lay back on the zombie stuff. Deal?"

"Deal."

I feel a weight lifting off of my chest. It's far from totally gone, but I'm finally feeling a little more free in this other land down under.

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**~A/N~ Da feels, guys. Da feels. *Sniffle* **

**Hopefully I didn't botch Shawn and Jasmine yet, but if I did, let me know in a review. It's my biggest worry right now, and any help is well appreciated.**


	3. Chapter 3- Revelation (Shawn)

******Disclaimer: All Total Drama characters belong to Fresh Tv. I'm only writing this for a project and no copyright violation is intended. Rated T for now, but might get gory and full of coarse language as it goes on.**

**~A/N~ After having this chapter done for a week or two, I was considering putting this story on hold until my competition story was completed, but oh well. Updates will be slow, so don't expect weekly chapters like with my other story. Reviews are highly appreciated.**

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_Life Goes On: Chapter 3- Revelation_

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**(Day 11)**

* * *

It's been over a week since Jasmine and I had our argument. Or, at least I think it's been a week. She calls it a talk, but I know it as a fight. I'm only trying to keep us safe and opening the bunker to the lurkers would only serve to complicate things. I'm not sure what she doesn't get. Does she think I'm lying about the zombies? If so, she's in for a shock when we see the surface. Well, if we see the surface, that is. I'm not convinced that it's a good idea in the slightest.

She thinks I actually listened to her and took her ideas into account, but she's as gullible as she was on the show. It's kind of her weakness. That, and tight spaces. She ain't perfect, but I wouldn't take it any other way.

For the past few days, life has gone on just the same. I adapted to bunker life pretty quick, but Jasmine still has a long way to go until she's ready to live here. Each day is basically the same. We wake up, wash off, eat breakfast, train with weapons, eat dinner, and sleep. It's not a rigorous schedule, but for Jasmine it's the worst thing ever. She loves fresh air and the outdoors, so I can understand where she's coming from. Do I think of it as my top priority? Not at all.

But what is my top priority? Other than survival, I have to fix up the old radio I found in one of the old boxes in the storage room. Once I get it back on line, I can prove to Jasmine that zombies exist and find out where potential safe zones are in the case that we're forced to bug out. But I don't want to bug out unless the bunker is breached. In all honesty, I don't even have a bug out bag ready to go for either of us.

After I eat breakfast, I mark out the twelfth day on our calendar, a Wednesday. I'm not sure what day it is, but whenever I wake up is the start of a new day for me.

"So," Jasmine says. "How's the old radio comin' along?"

"Not much better than yesterday," I explain. "The wires are still messed up and the power cord needs some repairs, but it's comin' along, I guess."

"Well maybe I could help," she says to me with a grin.

I have to tell her no. This radio is my only hope and I can't have her ruining it by accident."Sorry, Jazz, but I don't think you're too good with technology. Don't take it the wrong way, but I think I'd be better off alone."

"Oh, o-of course," she mutters. "My big hands probably aren't the best, huh?"

I have to keep her spirits high. "No, but they are good for weapons training. Why don't ya' go try out that samurai sword I brought. You said you liked using it, plus it fits you pretty well. What do you think?"

She sighs in apparent disappointment. "Oh, alright."

Once Jasmine walks off into the armory, I rush into the bedroom and take a seat at my desk where the radio is sitting. I look over the diagrams I've drawn over the past couple days and get to work.

As I tinker with the disconnected wires inside the radio, I can hear Jasmine striking the crash test dummy in the armory. I'm glad that she's getting used to life in the bunker, but I can't help but think she's planning something. She's been growing closer to me every day. So close in fact that it almost feels like she's sucking up to me. I love her company, but it doesn't feel all too sincere.

I connect another snapped wire and pull up my magnifying glass. Looking at all of the broken wires reminds me of the world right now. Everything is in shambles and incredibly difficult to put back in place. I know we can't fix it. It's not happening. Most of my research concluded that if the government doesn't resolve the zombie situation in two weeks or less, it's all over for the human race unless it finds a way to cope with the new world. I've already prepared for this day, but Jasmine never expected it. I almost feel sorry for her.

The whacking stops in the armory. She must've gotten tired. I connect another pair of wires and wipe the sweat from my brow. I'm almost done, it seems. But like the apocalypse, things can always take a turn for the worse.

That night, I roll over, toss, and turn in my cot. I can't sleep, and for a good reason. I have to work on the radio. It's the only thing that keeps me busy and focused. But Jasmine doesn't like being woken up at night, or whenever it is right now. I look at the radio on the table to try to close my eyes. It doesn't work.

I bite my lip and look at Jasmine as she sleeps. If she wakes up, she won't be happy and I'll never hear the end of it. I have to do something, or I'll stay an insomniac forever.

I decide to put on my shirt and slowly move out of bed. The cot squeaks, but Jasmine remains snoring. So far so good.

Being as quiet as possible, I sneak out of the room with the radio in hand and lock myself inside the supply room. This is it. Only a few hours to go until I can get in touch with the outside world.

* * *

**(Day 14)**

* * *

I wake up with my face covered in wet, sloppy drool.

"How long was I awake last night?" I ask myself.

The radio is still sitting on the table in front of me and the door is still locked. I look at the radio to see that it's close to being finished, or so I believe. I've never worked with technology much before, but I've done it enough to know how to hot wire a car, so a radio can't be much different.

I hear a knock at the door. "Shawn? You in there?"

I hurry over to the door and let Jasmine inside. She has bags under her eyes and looks drained.

"Couldn't sleep?" I ask her.

"No. You?"

"No," I tell her. "I want to get this radio working, and I'm almost done. Only another three wires left, and I can show you how awful the world is."

"Whateva' you say. I'm gonna go back to bed." She leaves the room and closes the door before I can say anything. I'm glad too. If she wasn't tired, she'd be pushing me to open the hatch.

My attention is turned back to the radio. As I fiddle with the wires yet again, my mind drifts to the news alert that started this. All I remember is that a load of people got sick at a hospital in northern Ontario and that the patients were attacking the staff. That was enough for me to know when to retreat underground. Jasmine just doesn't understand, does she? She's just going along with this out of her fear of the unknown. If it was just her alone, she would be be dead by now. A walking corpse in a field of thousands. But thanks to me, she's safe. For now at least.

I put the last wire in place and hope for the best. A faint crackle squeaks through the speaker. I instantly turn up the volume and listen closer. There's a voice.

"Zo... secure... seventy thr... A is... thirty percent... danger... fourth qua..."

It stops and I open the door to find Jasmine. She's in the bedroom trying to sleep, so waking her up would be a bad idea. But it's worth it.

I grab her shoulder. "Jasmine, quick! It works!"

"What?" she asks. "It's working. The radio?"

"Yeah, yeah. Just come on!" I grab her arm and pull her through the doorway and into the supply room where the radio is still crackling.

We listen close.

"Virus... read... five kilo... no one... street... houses... find... rabid..."

"Dear God," Jasmine gasps. "That isn't..."

"I think it is," I say. "I was right. The virus was a zombie virus, and I was right."

Jasmine stares at the radio as it spouts out more fuzzy messages. I see a tear drip down her face and she starts hyperventilating.

"Jasmine, calm down," I say as calmly as I can. "Its alright."

"No, no it's not!" she panics. "Are you even hearing this? It's an apocalypse and we're trapped underground in a tight bunker."

I'm hurting inside. I knew this was happening and had my mind prepared for it. But Jasmine, she didn't have a clue. This is so sudden for her, and I can't understand her feelings. I try to calm her down again with my soothing voice.

"Look," I tell her. I grab onto the tuner on the radio. "Let's see what else is-"

The door slams and I hear her footsteps retreating down the hallway.

Shit. This can't be good.

I open the door and run down the corridor as fast as I can. I notice the lights are flickering, as if somethings wrong with the solar power. When I reach the bedroom door, I reach for the doorknob and shake it around trying to get it to open up.

"Jasmine!" I hear myself shout. "Open up!"

"No," she says from inside. "I can't come out."

And I thought I was a little paranoid. Jasmine's going over the cliff of sanity and now she's isolated herself. She should know that solitude and zombies don't go together. Not that she ever cared about my lectures though.

"Please," I beg. "Hiding won't do you any good."

Silence. The lights flicker again as I listen close.

"Jasmine?" I ask as my hands begin to shake.

More silence. Something's wrong with her. I know she's strong-willed, but I didn't know how she'd react to the revelation. I regret ever showing her the broadcast. And now I'm actually regretting coming down here and taking her down with me. For the first time in my life, I loathe my intelligence, and it's scary. I'm just... confused. I hate it. I hate myself. I hate life.

Then without the slightest bit of warning, the lights blackout and the bunker is submerged in darkness. Like I said, I hate life.

* * *

**~A/N~ Honestly, I'm not really feeling this story, if you catch my drift. This is really just an attempt at something new and it's a bit rushed, so my attention is set on bigger fish that need frying, literally ;)**

**Review if you like it or have any advice on how to fix the problems that I know are there. I'm not afraid of criticism, I love it, but flaming is highly unnecessary and won't help me improve this story.**


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